


The Sound of Silence

by madders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madders/pseuds/madders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, silence can be the loudest thing.</p><p>The Winchester's, nor any other characters from Supernatural belong to me. I just play with them occasionally :oP</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Silence

John stared at the road in front of him, chasing after the end of the shimmering silver ribbon that spread out before him in the glare of his headlights. He glanced into the rear-view mirror, taking in the black muscle car following him closely behind. He could almost believe that he could make out Dean’s face as he sat behind the wheel, before turning his attention back to the bottle in his hand. Lifting it up and taking another gulp, he squinted at the sky and tried to remember how long he’d been driving for.

Too long, if the way his ass felt was any indication.

Spotting the tell tale signs of a town on the horizon, he decided to stop for the night- the hunt wasn’t going anywhere if they waited one more night. He considered calling Dean and letting him know, but decided that he’d know soon enough when John stopped.

Ten minutes later and the town was upon them, a small motel on the outskirts providing their beds for the night. John tossed the key at Dean, nodding as Dean opened the trunk and took his gear out before he himself headed over to the bar across the street.

He returned a few hours later, finding Dean already sacked out on one of the beds, the weapons already cleaned and put away. He stumbled over to the bathroom, barely managing to undo his jeans before pissing, managing to mostly hit the toilet.

Not bothering to zip up again, he stumbled back over to the beds, kicking Dean’s by accident before landing on his own, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. Dimly his last waking thought was that he was surprised Dean still hadn’t said anything to him about him coming back drunk every night.

The hunt went badly, and John knew that he wasn’t going to be able to patch Dean up this time. Grudgingly, and complaining all the way, John took Dean to the hospital, watching as they took Dean back for treatment. He managed to bluff his way out of them calling the police, botching together a plausible story as he handed over their fake ID and insurance details.

He filled out all the forms and then sat in the waiting room, staring at the walls and wishing he had his hipflask, which was still in his coat back in the truck.

It took hours before the doctor came to find him, and he was at the end of his patience as he was taken into a smaller private room.

“Mr. Eldwood,” the Doctor began.

“How’s my son?” he asked, impatiently.

“We’ve got the bleeding under control, but we’re concerned about a possible head injury,” the doctor informed him.

“Head injury?” John repeated, confused. He’d been there, Dean hadn’t hit his head.

“Your son seems very confused, and he’s not responding to any of our questions. We’ve sedated him now, as he was getting agitated, but it’s possible that if he hit his head, it’s affecting his brain.”

“He’s not speaking to you?” John asked, shocked.

“He hasn’t so much as made a sound since he was brought in. And that was despite him being in some considerable pain,” the doctor confirmed.

John sat down sharply, everything rushing in on him.

Suddenly every second of the last few months came rushing in on him, and John felt sick to his stomach. The doctor made apologies and left him alone; promising to get a nurse to take him to his son’s room as soon as possible, but John barely heard him.

Instead he was finally realizing the full import of the situation, putting together the pieces of everything he’d ignored in favor of drowning his own pain.

He hadn’t heard his son say a single word… not since that night months ago when Sam had left them.

Dean had reverted to silence once more… and John hadn’t even noticed.


End file.
